Out of Bounds
by 42Lia
Summary: The BTT is known for its unbreakable friendship that can survive time and wars. Nothing can break those three apart. Nothing. Nothing except perhaps ... one rule. One unbreakable rule. "No dating out of bounds." Now, what would happen if that rule were to be broken?
1. Chapter 1 - Rule

**Chap I – The Absolute Rule**

The Bad Touch Trio is well known for its timeless loyalty and friendship. Even when wars divide them, France, Spain and Prussia always work out their issues and their bonds never falter. Neither time nor war could break this trio apart.

But there is something that could.

Just one thing: Breaking the Absolute Rule.

* * *

><p>It was just an average party in America. They were all gathered for some reason or another but if you asked England, he'd just say it was a whim of the American and nothing more. Talking about England, the blonde of emerald green eyes so uncharacteristic was chatting lightly with Prussia and Denmark, beer in hand and his cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol. He wasn't drunk. It takes a lot of alcohol in his system to get him drunk. The problem is that he rarely stops himself before that point and ends up both wasted and penniless the next morning. But enough of that! Let's return to our party …<p>

America, the host of the night was entertaining Japan and China under the smiling face of Russia. I say entertaining but if you asked China, all he wanted was to punch the obnoxious host. Russia was plainly enjoying the sight of America getting into an argument with China. Japan was quietly watching, used to it all that he didn't feel the need to stop them. His dark empty gaze washed over the room and caught the sight of his friend Italy calling for him by the side of his brother and Germany. With a small smile, Japan excused himself but nobody paid him attention, and he walked up to the Italian.

"Ve! Japan! How are you? I haven't seen you in forever!" Italy hug-crushed him as per usual. Japan stiffened under the touch, despite being used to such actions.

"Hello Italy-san, how are you?"

"Italy! You're going to suffocate him!" Germany intervened, responsible and serious as he always is.

"Oi, get your hands off mi fratellino, potato bastard!" Romano piped up, getting irritated by just the mere presence of the German. To say that Romano/South Italy hated Germany is an understatement. The only person he seemed to hate more than the blonde German was his albino brother Prussia. At the very least, Romano could tolerate Germany hang around his little brother but if it were Prussia, he would go on a rampaging fit. Probably because the Prussian always attempted to flirt with the youngest Italian and it bothered Romano very very much!

Glaring angry amber eyes on the German, Romano's gaze narrowed on Germany's hands on Feliciano's shoulders. He clicked his tongue as if in a warning. Germany's icy blue eyes glanced at the oldest twin and he sighed in exasperation, letting go of his friend. By now, Veneziano had already let go of Japan so it did not matter anymore. Japan smiled thankfully at his friend then bowed politely to them all as a greeting. His dark eyes were watching Germany and Romano's interaction with deep interest.

If you asked Japan about nations relations with one another, he would have a ton of facts … and a ton of suppositions. One of his favourite is a love triangle between Veneziano, Germany and Romano. It's plausible. If Veneziano did actually love Germany. Or if Germany did actually love Veneziano. Or if Romano did love Germany. It would be fine, except they don't.

"Romaaaaaa! I'm so glad to see you! How is my little tomato?" Romano jumped in dread as he felt strong tanned arms snake around him and lift him up in the air and buried him in a large chest. The Italian cursed and struggled but the laughter of his aggressor only seemed to get louder.

"Antonio, I think you're suffocating your henchman! Might want to let him go now?" France laughed as he tapped his friend's shoulder. With a bright nod, Spain released his ex-charge, smiling brightly at the angry-red Romano cursing and yelling back at them.

Japan smiled pleasantly as he greeted the two nations. Germany curtly nodded at them, his eyes glancing in Spain and Romano's direction, seeing them ignoring everyone else, so he settled his gaze on the French … who was already hugging Italy with a fond brotherly grin on his face. Veneziano was more than happy to hug the French back, chatting very rapidly in Italian to him and Francis answered with ease in French. Germany face-palmed at the two latins, wondering why he was friends with such touchy, happy-go-lucky, way too easy-going people. But the tall blonde only smiled with a shake of his head and waited for France to end his conversation with Italy, trying to follow their fast pace but failing.

"Oi! Francis! Antonio! Kesese! You guys came too?"

Both nations looked up and grinned excitedly as they met the bright ruby eyes of Prussia. The albino was walking towards them with a pint of beer in each hand. His brother frowned at that but said nothing. He just hoped Gilbert would not go overboard with the drinking. Romano rolled his eyes and hissed in irritation at the approach of the Prussian while his younger brother cheerfully welcomed the albino with a hug. Japan bowed politely and received a cheeky grin in return. The Self-Proclaimed Awesome Prussia strolled and grabbed each of his two best friends by their shoulders, his beers threatening to fall out in his movement.

"I'm borrowing them, West! Kesese! Let's hit the bar!"

"If you spill that beer on my clothes, I'm going to make sure you never drink beer ever again!" Francis warned him, as he watched the balanced beer in Gilbert's hand hanging over his shoulder.

"Amigo! It's been a while! I can't remember the last time we got together like that!" Antonio smiled cheerfully, mediating between the other two as they started up an argument. It always was his job to be the peace-maker between France and Prussia. Otherwise, they would get into fights all the time. Not that it was a problem but occasionally they needed to hold back or they'd be kicked out and banned of every single pub they encountered! And that equals to very many!

* * *

><p>"West is being such a jerk!" Prussia moaned, half in a drunken daze, half vaguely aware that he should be complaining about his brother but couldn't remember why.<p>

"He's just worried about you! And I don't get why!" Francis chuckled, being the laughing drunk he usually is, although push the wrong button and you will not have him laughing for much longer.

"Romaaaa hates meeeeeeeee!" Antonio whined like a pathetic kicked puppy.

"Yeaaah! He does!" Francis answered with a tease, enjoying himself as he just agreed to everything the other two complained about!

"Yeah? Well, England hates you too!" Prussia challenged with a victorious grin and it took him a second to realise he had pushed the wrong button … again.

Francis' face turned instantly murderous and his blue eyes cold and merciless as he pressed his forehead against Prussia's.

"What did you say?"

Gilbert felt a shiver but the thrill and adrenaline of a fight boiled in him. He smirked challengingly back and whispered the words in a taunting manner.

"Your cute little master … hates … you!" He purred the words.

"You are dead!" Francis roared but before either of them could get into a real fight, Antonio intervened (though accidentally because he was that drunk- normally he would not risk getting in the other two's way).

"… Who's that over there dancing?"

Francis and Gilbert both looked up towards the dance floor and had to squint their eyes to see. Their vision was already poor in the dark lighting of the room, but their hazed fog of alcohol did not help in any way. Eventually, Francis' eyes spotted the familiar figure and his happy-drunk face returned.

"It's Little Master! He's dancing! So cute! Wait! Wait! Why is he not dancing with Big Brother?! Who's the idiot he's dancing with?! Not America, please not America!"

"Hermano …" Antonio whispered in a dull cold tone that did not suit his usual happy personality. His olive green eyes were narrowing on the couple dancing.

"Portugal … Ok then." Francis slumped back in his seat, seemingly settling down but … then grinded his teeth at the way Portugal's arm was lowering down Arthur's back very purposefully.

"Changed my mind!" The Murderous-Drunk Francis jumped out of his seat and charged to "Save his little brother!"

Gilbert sighed, disappointed that his fight never happened. He heard a glass shatter and glanced knowingly back at his friend. The dark furious look on Antonio's face was comparable to Francis'. Although the Spaniard's was slightly more aggravated and terrifying.

"You already knew it was Arthur and your brother. That's why you told Francis. You knew he'd intervene." Prussia groaned, slowly regaining his soberness.

Antonio blinked and reluctantly looked away from the satisfying sight of France beating up Portugal under the outraged protests of England. The Spaniard narrowed a quizzical gaze on his Prussian friend and his bright cheerful smile returned.

"What are you saying amigo? Why would I ever do that?" Antonio spoke innocently.

"Yeah … why indeed." Prussia smirked as he ordered another drink but his expression became serious instantly.

"I know you hate your brother. And I don't care if it pleases you to ruin his chances with other nations just for the sake of it. But I hope you remember the Absolute Rule." Gilbert warned his friend. Antonio just dismissively waved his hand, shrugging.

"Si, si! I know! Like I'd ever be interested in that diablo ingles!"

"Hm …" Prussia nodded, hopping with all his might that Antonio was confident of his words and would stick to them. After all, if he dared to break that rule … it would be unforgivable.

"The rule … You guys actually follow rules?" Austria's proper tone of voice interrupted the two drunkards and only one of the two offered the Austrian a smile while the other was growling in irritation.

"Hola Austria! I didn't know you came too!"

"Prissy Aristocrat …"

Austria ignored Prussia's attitude as he was so used to it and focused his attention on Antonio.

"What rule could you three devils even accept to abide by?" he inquired, curious by the seriousness Gilbert had shown earlier concerning "the Absolute Rule". He really wondered what kind of limiter these three could possibly have! They are known for breaking every rule they come across.

"What's it to you?" Gilbert snarled, gulping down his beer.

"I'm just curious as to what could hinder your little group that you'd actually consider it an unbreakable rule." Roderich shrugged, already accepting that he would probably not get an answer. To his surprise, Gilbert was the one to answer while Antonio remained quiet.

"No dating out of bounds." Gilbert spoke in a solemn manner. Antonio seemed disinterested in the Germanic nations' discussion and his eyes darted back to Romano who was arguing with his brother and Germany again. He smiled fondly.

"Out of bounds …?"

"Yeah! Relax, prissy aristocrat! You're not out of bounds! Don't get too conceited!" Gilbert began laughing loudly as Roderich's expression remained both disturbed and confused.

"Then who is … out of bounds?"

"For me, it's West!" Prussia smiled softly at the mention of his brother. "For Antonio, it's obviously Romano! And for Francis, it's … well, see for yourself!" He laughed and pointed at the now arguing England and France. It was clear that France cared a lot for England, more so than any other nation. After all, he only acknowledged England as his sworn little brother and nobody else.

Austria nodded, finally understanding the strange rule. No dating out of bounds. Makes sense. Since for each of those three nations, tied through life by a friendship unbreakable, only one thing could possibly break them apart. Targeting family is out of bounds. Targeting brothers is out of bounds.

Makes perfect sense.

Roderich smirked and walked away, leaving the drunken trio (Francis had joined them after getting scolded by England). He was curious to see how these three actually fare with a rule when they are known incapable to follow any rule. It's going to be interesting …


	2. Chapter 2 - Mistake

**Chap II – The Absolute Mistake**

**AN: Thank you for the reviews of the first chapter! And to answer your questions (some of you already guessed it anyway): This is NOT going to be a Spamano/FrUK/Germancest kind of story. The only have a brotherly relationship but that's the key reason of the Out of Bound Rule. The actual pairings will become obvious as the story comes along.**

* * *

><p>Spain remembers very well getting drunk. Very drunk. Badly drunk. But even so … he never thought himself capable of breaking the rule despite all the alcohol in the world in his system! It makes no sense! He doesn't even love or care for the other man so why … why … why … GOD WHY?!<p>

Why is England in his bed?!

Staring with wide panicked eyes at the sleeping blonde next to him, Spain tried to calm his racing mind. Maybe nothing happened! Yeah, maybe they were both drunk and one had helped the other back to his room, they probably both collapsed on the bed and that's it! Yes! That sounds more plausible! Absolutely! That's what happened!

… Yeah, one problem with that.

They're naked. Both of them.

…

Damnit! Antonio held his head in his hands, palming his face in an attempt to clear his mind and remember the events of last night.

* * *

><p>He was at the bar with Gilbert and Francis. Francis had whined and complained that his little master was angry at him and being seduced by some evil Portuguese sex-god that would ruin his little brother's innocence. Seriously, Francis can really overdramatize when he's drunk (and even when he's not drunk)! Spain remembers chuckling at the words, a dark smirk twisting his lips. Arthur is all but innocent and he should know since he was the one to have broken that innocence. Licking his lips in remembrance, Antonio couldn't help feeling slightly pissed that his brother was probably sleeping with what once belonged to him. Of course, at the time, the absolute rule did not exist and he was not a perfect trio with his two friends. It was a long time ago.<p>

As the party began to slowly tune down and people began leaving back to the hotel, Francis got dragged away along with Gilbert by Ludwig because Arthur had made it clear that he was still angry with Francis and not willing to deal with him so he had asked Ludwig to owe him this favour. Antonio was about to go after Romano, hoping his little Italian wouldn't mind helping him drive to the hotel as he was way beyond drunk. But Italy had wanted to help Germany with Francis and Gilbert and there was no way Romano would leave his little brother alone with the two potato bastards and the perverted bastard! Sadly a car can only hold 5 people. Antonio remembers walking around and hoping to find another nation willing to drive him back. He thought of asking Roderich and the Austrian reluctantly agreed. Telling him to wait outside, the aristocrat needed to finish his conversation with Hungary first. Antonio shrugged and zig-zagued to the door.

* * *

><p>The fresh air slapped his face, sobering him slightly, just enough that he would not trip over his own feet and land on the smaller figure in front of him. Instead he just bumped lightly, causing the other to jump in surprise. He recognised the voice of the other person before his face.<p>

"João! Oh … Sorry." Arthur caught himself as he recognised the Iberian. It was just the wrong Iberian.

Antonio didn't know why but it ticked him off when Arthur mistook him for his brother. He knew they were very much alike and the confusion can happen. Although, it irritated him to no end, he remembers Arthur being one of the rare nations able to recognise them on sight. Just like he did now. But what bothered Antonio was that Arthur's first thought was to expect his brother. Why was he waiting outside too anyway?

"What are you doing here?" Antonio's slurry tone was harsh and hateful. He noticed Arthur's emeralds grow colder and his body stiffen. The Englishman looked away, frown on his face and seemingly wanting nothing to do with the Spaniard.

"I'm waiting for your brother. He's talking with America. They said they wouldn't be long but …" Arthur's voice trailed to silence and his expression turned to slight worry. He was aware that João didn't like America but he hoped the two were not having a fight. Should he go and check it out?

"You're driving them?" Antonio's tone was cold and empty, almost dull.

"Yes. America had a drinking contest with Russia so I let you imagine the result of that! And João is in no condition to drive either. Matthew offered to take us back to the hotel but I don't know where he disappeared to! He always does that! One day, I'll figure out how he disappears like that … Anyway, it's just us four."

Arthur paused and shot a suspicious side-glance towards the drunken Spaniard before sighing heavily and reluctantly offered:

"But if you need a ride we still have one seat left …" He couldn't exactly leave Spain's drunken arse to his own demise on the street … scratch that, he can very easily do that but if he did, he knew France would nag at him endlessly about being cold-hearted and not able to make friends! As if he'd ever become friends with Spain! Plus having him and Portugal in the same car is bound to spell trouble … shit, why did he even offer the Spaniard a ride?

Spain's mind didn't register much. Just enough to make him angry … no, wait, not angry … Furious. The idea of England driving his brother back … the idea of England and Portugal together … Along with America … Spain can just picture those two clinging on to the small Englishman! And he hated that mental image! If anything, Canadia or whatever his name, is alright … barely! America already took up most of Arthur's time during the party, and the rest of it was taken by Portugal. Spain had to spend his time watching his brother flirt with England the whole night! It frustrated him so much that he even temporarily ignored Prussia and Romano's arguments (they had been particularly loud but that could have been due to the alcohol) and had to drown his anger in alcohol or he might have done something he isn't allowed to do! And now, his brother's getting a drive back to the hotel?! Hell no! Why is Portugal always getting it his way?! Why is he the one England picked?! Why him?! Why is it always him?!

"Oi … Why did you pick my brother?" The Spaniard whispered, interrupting England's mental musing.

The emerald eyes looked up in surprised but could not see Spain's expression, shadowed by the dark night. Arthur shrugged, not really understanding why Spain asked him that. Why did he agree to drive Portugal back? Obviously because they're friends! Doesn't the Spaniard get tired of his rivalry with Portugal? Well, he knows Spain and Portugal hate each other but usually they just stay at a safe distance from one another. It was already the same back then … Arthur brushed away the memory, not wanting to lose his composure in front of Spain. It wouldn't matter anyway. Back then or now, Spain has and will hate him.

"Because he's my best friend." Arthur answered as if it were obvious.

"… Did you sleep with him?" Spain's voice didn't betray any emotion, almost like he were interrogating the blonde. Arthur shot a shocked glare at the taller man, eyes wide and his face flushed in embarrassment and offense.

"How is that any of your bloody business?!"

"So you did …"

"Why do you even ask?! You don't care! You hate us! You hate him for god knows what childish reason of your past! And you hate me!" Arthur bit his tongue on his last word.

Yeah … he knew it already but it's still painful to hear it out loud … especially from his own mouth. Spain hates him. Everyone knows that. Even America once enquired on why Spain hated him so much. Hell, the only one that seemed to question otherwise was Feliciano! And he's not exactly a reliable source! What did he say again …?

"_But isn't Hate too strong an emotion that you'd waste it on someone you don't care about?"_

Arthur smiled sadly. That kind of logic doesn't work on nations. Otherwise, why would we have wars? It's only logical for nations to hate. Care? Right … since when did Spain ever cared for England?

Antonio watched a sad smiled stretch on the blonde's lips. Why did it piss him off so much? Yes, he hated England. But why did it hurt when he heard England openly claim that he hated him?! Why did it bother him that England thought Spain hated him?!

"Yeah … I hate you." Antonio muttered before he leaned forward, grabbing hold of the younger nation.

Arthur barely had time to react than he felt a hand grab the back of his head and pull him into a deep sensual kiss. The emeralds widened in shock, staring back into the dark lustful olives. Pushing and struggling, Arthur attempted to break away but Antonio in his drunken state was relentless. Wrapping his arms around Arthur's body, he kept a firm grip on the blonde. England finally managed to end their kiss but his body was still tightly held against Spain's. The strong tanned arms felt much warmer than usual and Antonio's whole body felt like a burning fire that would consume the island nation. Arthur tried pushing and forming some sort of distance between them but only centimetres between their lips was all he could manage, with his arms blocking against the broader chest of Antonio. Through the clothing, Arthur could feel Antonio's erratic heartbeat and his heated skin touch. Gulping, Arthur glared furiously in Antonio's dangerously dark olives. The last time Arthur had seen such a look in those eyes was when he challenged Antonio's authority over the seas … and not just the seas.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you drunken idiot?!" Arthur snapped, glad that his voice was as cold and harsh as it should be. Antonio lifted an eyebrow, amused smirk cornering his mouth and he gently leaned closer to Arthur's face. Arthur had no way to retreat as he felt his body being pushed against a cold wall, trapped with the boiling hot body of Spain.

"Inglaterra~ You're blushing~!" Antonio purred seductively, his hands roaming avidly over Arthur's stiff body.

"I am not! You're just too hot and too close!"

"Eh? You think I'm hot? That's so cute! I didn't think Inglaterra would look at me like that!" Antonio chuckled darkly and his expression softened slightly, his lustful gaze less aggressive than before.

Arthur shook his head, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"I didn't mean it like that! I mean you are literally hot! Do you have a fever or something? You're suffocating me and I can't breathe! Let go now! Portugal is going to come back and if he sees …"

"So what?" Antonio's coldness returned, his eyes blazing in anger now and his expression curling into a sadistic smile breaking his face.

One of his hands reached up to cup and caress England's face, the other leaning against the wall, trapping Arthur. His leg pushed up in between the blonde's, grinding softly their bodies together. Arthur felt his blood rush and his body warm up in ways he didn't want it to. He tried pushing Antonio away but the Spaniard pulled him in another kiss, holding his face with his hand pressing long fingers against each cheek, cupping his chin.

Arthur felt the iron taste of blood as his lip was bitten by Spain. Why is this even happening? The taste of alcohol and blood in his mouth somehow didn't bother him as much as he let believe. Unconsciously, Arthur found himself wanting to kiss the Spaniard. But this is … only Spain's selfish desire. Just like in the past. Nothing changed.

Antonio felt the kiss break suddenly as he was pushed back. He blinked in slight surprise at the blonde glaring at him fiercely. Spain felt his heart jump at the threat of those emeralds. Why? Why is it that England can only glare at him? And why could he only glare back?

_Ah … Just like back then …_

Antonio smirked, amused. He leaned closer to the blonde, his weight serving as pressure to make Arthur unable to move.

"So what? Arturo … What if I were to take you from my brother?" He suggested darkly, licking his lips.

Arthur frowned, lost in their conversation.

"What are you …? Take me …? Oi! I'm not your bloody property!" Arthur flared up, remembering how a similar conversation happened a long time ago. He glared viciously at the taller man insulting him. He's not just a mere property to be owned! That's exactly why Arthur knew he and Spain would never get along! Even if he's drunk and even if Antonio somehow reverted back to his old self due to the alcohol, treating him like he did back then …! Unacceptable!

Spain's mind flashed back to a similar discussion. Ah right … back then, he had foolishly said …

"Yes, you are. You are mine. Only mine." Antonio whispered in the blonde's ear, nipping and licking softly, rejoicing in the low angry growls of his victim.

Arthur seethed through his teeth but couldn't stop the feeling of pleasure the Spaniard was giving him. Damn! Getting drunk and acting like he did in the past, it's as if Arthur was pulled back in time! And just like back then … he could not understand Spain's actions.

"W-Why are you doing this … Spaniard?" Arthur spat in anger but his voice trembled too much to make a believable threat. Antonio smirked at this. He always found it exciting the way Arthur struggled so much. He never got to sleep with anyone that was quite that resilient and resisted his charms this well. It makes the chase all the more delightful!

"Why, you ask? Hm … I don't know." Antonio considered the question thoughtfully, briefly interrupting his ministration of Arthur.

"Why did you dance tonight? Why did you let João touch you? Why did Alfred capture your attention most of the evening? Why were your cheeks so flushed when talking with Prussia and Denmark? Why are your eyes so ethereal? Why is your voice so taunting? Why? I don't know. You tell me. Why are you standing there on your own, prey to anyone as I am demonstrating right now?" Antonio's tone turned harsh and almost scolding.

"Why are you always on my mind? Why do I hate you so much? Why did you leave? Why can I never keep hold of you? Why do you dare smile to others than me?" His voice dropped turning almost to a mutter.

Arthur blinked a few times, unsure if he had heard correctly. Antonio must be drunk for suggesting such strange words. Sober, he'd never even look at Arthur. There is no way this is real. Is he even conscious of his own words? Probably … not.

"Are you crazy? You're drunk! You should just find someone to drive you back and we can talk this over tomorrow after you've sobered up." Arthur argued and attempted to push away, succeeding as Antonio let him go. Although part of his mind was hoping that Antonio might actually not just be throwing words at him … if he can remember those words when sober then …

"Who am I kidding …?" Arthur muttered to himself as he walked away from the staggering Spaniard.

* * *

><p>Walking to unlock his car, Arthur shut the door and switched on the engine, waiting for Alfred, Matthew and João to show up. What's taking them so long? The door clicked and the seat next to him was taken, followed by the slamming shut of the door. Arthur sighed and turned a warm smile to his best friend … but it wasn't his best friend. Damn it all!<p>

"I liked your smile better than this face of horror and disgust." Antonio snarled, smirking as he leaned in his seat, watching Arthur with amusement.

"Antonio! What the bloody hell?! Get out of my car!"

"No. You said I needed to find someone to drive me back."

"_Someone else_, you wanker! Not me! As if I'd drive you after you …"

"After I what, Arturo?" Antonio leaned closer to Arthur. If the wall had been an inconvenience earlier, the enclosed space of the car was almost just as bad. Or maybe worse seeing how Antonio was licking his lips and slowly leaning on top of the nervous blonde.

"You thought we were finished? I just agreed that we should go back to the hotel first. I never agreed to let you go." Antonio purred as he finally was fully holding Arthur down, the blonde's head against the window and their lips meeting passionately.

"I'm not letting you escape like last time. Never again." Antonio whispered in between two kisses, his lips devouring the other's.

Arthur moaned, unable to stop the pleasurable feeling Antonio was causing him. He never really understood how the Spaniard could make him feel so helpless and needy. He both hated it and wanted it. Arthur's mind blanked out and all thoughts of escaping were thrown out the window when Antonio palmed his crotch teasingly. Arthur's hands snaked around the Spaniard's neck and Antonio's low growl of satisfaction for Arthur compliancy was enough to make the blonde shiver in desire. Their tongues fought and Antonio reluctantly felt the other overpower him. The smirk on Arthur's face was both antagonising and a serious turn on. Growling possessively, Antonio trailed hickeys down Arthur's neck and collar bone, biting and sucking like an animal would devour his prey. Why did it taste so damn delicious?

"Antonio?"

The Spaniard paused suddenly and hissed in anger at being interrupted. He glanced up, drunken angry gaze watching Roderich search for him. The Austrian looked around for a few minutes before walking back inside to search for him. Antonio smirked in satisfaction. He was not letting anyone interrupt his pleasure. Except maybe the blonde beneath him.

Arthur suddenly snapped back into reality and out of the lustful dream. He saw Roderich search for Antonio, probably to drive him back to the hotel. So the bastard did have someone to drive him! What is the wanker thinking then? Arthur cursed himself for letting Antonio play with him this far. He roughly pushed the Spaniard off him as soon as Roderich was out of sight.

Antonio tumbled back into the passenger seat, staring in surprise and confusion at the flushed blonde. Antonio had many questions and thoughts crossing his mind but only one remained: Arthur's damn cute when he's blushing! A hungry grin quickly found its way on the Latin's face as Arthur was rearranging his dishevelled clothing. The visible trail of love-bites on the pale skin of Arthur's neck only caused a satisfied growl in Antonio. The sight of his possession was both pleasing and appealing. He wanted more. He wanted to examine every inch of his possession. Just like last time all those centuries ago!

"Get out of my car." Arthur growled harshly.

"No." Antonio answered with a teasing grin.

"Spain, you already have someone to take care of your drunken arse so stop making me do … _this_!"

"I don't want anyone to take care of my ass. But I do want to take care of yours personally!" Antonio purred seductively and received a strong punch in his face.

"You try that again … and I'll rip your balls off." Arthur spoke in a cold merciless tone. Antonio's excitement only grew more as he licked his lips. Having to tame such a wild animal as the Englishman was thrilling and exhilarating! He would make Arthur submit and beg for him! Oh, he will!

"I'd love to see that, Arturo. But later. Let's go back first. I'm shackling and tying you up if I have to, carino. Don't tempt me because I will drive you back myself if you do not."

"You're drunk! Don't be ridiculous and stop talking nonsense …" Arthur felt a sudden panic that Spain was actually dead-serious when the Spaniard pulled him out of the driver's seat and onto his lap, holding his arms behind his back, and preventing the blonde from moving. Antonio leaned to whisper in Arthur's ear, his breath tickling the blonde's skin.

"I'm serious, mi rosa. You are not escaping me."

"Stop it … you're drunk!"

"You've been saying that a lot. So what if I am. Am I any less going to carry on my threat? You should know better, Arturo! When did I ever change my mind half-way through something?"

"… Why are you … why all this …? You … hate me." Arthur gently tugged on Antonio's grip, silently complying and asking Antonio to release him. The Spaniard considered Arthur's words silently before biting hard into the back of Arthur's neck, making Arthur jump and yelp in pain. Blood leaked out of the wound and Antonio only gazed at the mark in satisfaction. He released Arthur and watched him take his seat back behind the wheel, restarting on the engine.

"Yeah, but you're mine." Antonio answered and watched Arthur drive them back to the hotel in silence.

* * *

><p>Antonio cursed in his breath. He remembers the way he had carried Arthur over his shoulder and up to his room. He remembers the angry complains of the Englishman turning to moans of desire under his touch. He remembers the delicious taste of Arthur's body and the way they melted perfectly against one another. He remembers Arthur's sweet perfect ass …<p>

Shit.

Antonio ran a frustrated hand through his raven locks. Now that he was sober, all of this sounded ridiculous! How could he have even felt any kind of attraction to the cold Englishman? Even drunk as he was, that should not have happened! Why did he get triggered by Arthur's words of meeting with his brother? Yeah … it must have been because he wanted to spite his brother! Antonio could not think of any other reason why he would willingly seduce and sleep with the English blonde. He never would even without the Absolute Rule condition … …

…

Oh shit!

Antonio felt his mind panic as he stared back at the peaceful expression of the blonde. He had just broken the Absolute Rule!

... Now, he's dead!


	3. Chapter 3 - Lie

**Chap III – The Absolute Lie**

Arthur woke up at the shuffling sounds around him. Blinking hazed emeralds open, he witnessed Antonio walking out of the shower and getting dressed. Arthur took his time to look over the bare chest of the Spaniard, the perfect way his jeans fell on his hips, the wet dripping black curls and his serious cold angry face …

Uh? Serious cold angry …?

* * *

><p>Antonio glanced up as he saw Arthur wake up. The blonde sat on the bed, at loss and watching him with expectant green eyes seeking answers Antonio wished he didn't have to give. The Spaniard was about to growl at the blonde but when he crossed eyes with the glowing emeralds, all words flew out of his mind and his open mouth could only let out vague sounds.<p>

"… Hi." Antonio barely managed to utter.

Arthur winced at the empty tone. He expected this much. Antonio was seriously drunk last night. He probably would have slept with anyone and Arthur just happened to be there. It was expected but Arthur couldn't help feel betrayed and played. He had truly believed Antonio's words last night. At the very least, he thought … he hoped that Antonio might have actually been serious!

"_You're mine"_

What a joke! Should have known better! After how many heartbreaks is he going to learn?! Well … it is his fault for falling for the empty promises of a drunkard. Arthur couldn't even find a reason to blame Spain on this one. But damn was he bitter about it all!

Antonio watched carefully at the blonde's expression. Arthur's empty blank face was hard to figure out. He never could tell what the blonde was thinking. At least, if Arthur could get angry, it'd be easier! Why is he staying silent like that?! Is he that upset of having slept with Antonio? The Spaniard couldn't help but feel offended and pissed off by the idea that Arthur was regretting sleeping with him that much that he couldn't even get angry!

"Hi." He heard Arthur's quiet cold tone, almost like the blonde didn't want to even speak to him.

Arthur hoped his voice didn't come out chocked up. He had to swallow up his bitterness and frustration, clenching his fists in the blankets as he tried not to throw a fit. This whole situation was just awful! The tensed atmosphere and awkwardness between them was making Arthur remember why he had promised himself never to be left alone with Spain when drunk. And damn, he didn't even have that excuse for last night! He remembers everything! But yeah … he shouldn't expect bloody Spain to remember! The guy is probably disgusted and thinking of ways to murder him!

"About last night …" Arthur looked up as he heard Antonio speak up again.

The Spaniard was glaring at the wall, avoiding to cross eyes with the blonde or he will lose all composure again. Why was he feeling so ashamed and nervous? He knew Francis cared for the blonde and the guilt he felt was impossible to describe. So why was he feeling a bit smug about it all? It's not like he ... well, no! He can't! He hates England, end of story! Besides he shouldn't have dragged Arthur into this. If England heard of the Rule, France will probably also be murdered alongside himself! Either way, last night was just a mistake! He was drunk! The blonde was probably a bit tipsy too despite having driven them back to the hotel. He could tell because Antonio remembers Arthur's cheeks to have been flushed the entire time they interacted. That must have been the alcohol … right?

"Yeah?" Arthur's quiet voice barely audible managed to reach Antonio's ears.

Frowning severely, Antonio snapped in a harsh and empty tone. All his inner turmoil and aggression flashed over his expression and seeming to direct all the blame onto Arthur as he glared at the blonde. Arthur didn't even wince or blink at the angry tone of the Spaniard. Should he have sounded angry too? Maybe. But all the blonde felt was ... empty and disappointed.

"All that was just a mistake! I was horny and you were there! You had drunk a lot and I took advantage! That's all! You can punch me if it makes you feel better but don't you dare go around saying anything about what happened last night! None of that means anything! Agreed?" Antonio finally glared into the eyes of the blonde. Arthur's emeralds seemed to dull and grow colder than usual. Antonio didn't know why but he felt a bit guilty when he saw the emptiness in those beautiful greens. The blonde nevertheless nodded compliantly.

"Nothing happened." Arthur dully declared as he pulled himself out of bed and walked to the en suite shower.

Before he walked through, Arthur shot back a dark glare full of bottled up hate aimed at the Spaniard and when he spoke, this time, Antonio felt his blood freeze from the icy venom in the blonde's voice.

"Don't talk or come near me again or I'll do more than just punch you."

Antonio blinked as the bathroom door shut closed. He didn't realise that he had followed Arthur's movements, his eyes trailing down the naked blonde, until he disappeared to shower. Arthur's threat, far from making Antonio scared, actually made his blood rush pumped in excitement. Face-palming, Antonio cursed his hangover for making him act like last night. He thought a shower would help him calm down and forget all those thoughts of Arthur and last night.

At least he cleared the issue with the blonde. Now, all he needed was to pretend nothing happened. How hard can it be? It's not like he has feelings for the Englishman. He can't have feelings for England! Even if he might ... maybe ... have a soft spot for the blonde, Arthur would never return any kind of feelings he might ... maybe ... possibly have. No, no, no! He hates England! That's how he decided things and that's how he's going to keep them! England is only a colleague and acquaintance! Even if he has a sweet ass ...

* * *

><p>Francis and Gilbert groaned in misery at the table, Ludwig ignored their complaints as he sipped his morning coffee. He had woken the two drunkards and dragged them down to the hotel buffet for breakfast an hour before every other nation had woken up. Francis mentally cursed Ludwig and his German punctuality that made him get up and prepared early in advance so that they wouldn't be late for the road trip America had organised. Knowing how wasted America was last night, Francis doubts the host himself will show up on time so why did they bother getting prepared too early?!<p>

"Weeeest … I don't feel so good …" Prussia groaned and without a word, headed for the bathroom.

Francis rolled his eyes and buried his face in his crossed arms over the table, hoping he could catch a bit more sleep before the others arrived. But seems like Ludwig would not give him a break!

"How badly are you feeling?" He asked and Francis, in his irritation, did not hear the concern in the young German's voice.

"Fantastic! Never better!" Francis snapped back sarcastically, making the other blonde wince.

"Sorry … I could have woken up only Brother but I had to hand back the keys of our room and your room is shared with Switzerland so I didn't think bringing you back to your room to rest would have been wise." The German tried to explain himself. For all answer he got a reluctant growl that Francis understood but still was pissed at him.

Sighing, Germany finished his breakfast without another word. He'd never get Francis to be cordial right now. All the times Francis had stayed the night at his place from having partied with Prussia, the next morning, Ludwig remembers the Frenchman to be extremely irritable and in a bad mood. His rationality was thrown out the window, and Francis would just remain silent and grumpy until the hangover passes. Which can take a whole day depending on how badly drunk he was.

Considering that America had planned a road trip across his nation for all his guests, Ludwig doubted Francis would recover his good mood before tomorrow. The road trip will only make him more irritable and grouchy. And it's very likely that if Ludwig had brought Francis back to his shared room with Switzerland last night, he would have ended up in a gun fight with the other blonde this morning that would probably blow up the whole building.

Chuckling softly, Ludwig imagined the face America would make when he would ask for Hangover-France and Pissed-Off-Switzerland for a refund. It would not look pretty! Glancing down at the other blonde, Ludwig noticed the silent regular breathing of the French and his face turned sideways as he slept his hangover off. A dust of pink crawled up his cheeks and the German tried not to stare too long at the sleeping beauty in front of him. It's hard with the breakfast area near empty and the only company he had was his crush.

Caressing Francis' cheek, Ludwig pulled away a few golden strands from the other's face. He really was gorgeous. And not at all as people judge him to be. Due to France's regular visits to his place (Thanks to Prussia inviting him all the time) Germany had grown to know the French nation better than all the stereotypes that surrounds him. Before he knew it, he was head over heels in love with his neighbour and European partner. And to make matters worse, Francis always treated him in a patronizing manner. He was officially labelled as "Prussia's Little Brother" in the French's mind. And no matter how much Germany tried, he never seemed to get Francis to see him any other way. It frustrated him. He wanted to be seen as a man and not as Prussia's little brother! He's taller and stronger than his brother anyway! He's by far no longer a child! And he is a lot more responsible and reliable than Prussia (Which admittedly is not hard an accomplishment)! Ludwig tried so hard to become perfect and yet Francis just never seemed to see him as more than a friend. No … a friend's younger brother. He's not even a friend himself. His brother is the friend. He's just the little brother of Prussia.

It's so frustrating …

* * *

><p>Francis didn't move. He wasn't asleep, only resting, when he felt a large hand brush back his hair. It wasn't Prussia. He would have heard the loud moaning idiot return. So that leaves only Germany. Why is Germany caressing his face when he's "sleeping"? Francis felt his breath hitch. He didn't like this situation. It would be troublesome if Prussia came back and saw this. Not that anything was happening but it would be best not to create misunderstandings. As best as he could, Francis pretended to stir in his sleep. And as he expected, Germany's hand flew away instantly. He smirked to himself. Germany was much to prude to do anything. He was probably feeling bad about making the Frenchman so angry. Francis thought about apologising for his rude behaviour later once he wakes up. Smiling softly, Francis really fell asleep, not noticing the soft name he whispered as he did so. But Germany noticed.<p>

* * *

><p>When Italy joined them suddenly the Italian spent many minutes staring at the sleeping France and the beetroot red Germany.<p>

"Ve … Ludwig? What's up with your face?"

"N-Nothing. It's nothing. H-here's some coffee …" Ludwig tried to distract his friend and succeeded. In the morning, nothing matters more to the Italian than his coffee. But in the German's mind the soft spoken words of France still rang pleasantly in his mind.

"_Sorry Ludwig … Not mad at you …"_

Ludwig shook his head and stared longingly at the peaceful face of the sleeping blonde. Italy was too busy eating to notice. The German sighed heavily. He couldn't admit his feelings to Francis. Not when Francis isn't even taking him seriously as a man. He was still just a little brother. And it really was frustrating … even if the soft voice of Francis sounded so melodic.

* * *

><p>Prussia leaned against the sink. He felt nauseous but his stomach was growling painfully empty. A door opened and a gasp caught Prussia's ears. The albino was too hangover to bother looking at whom had entered the toilettes after him. He can't even tell how long he's been there, letting the tap water running like a leak.<p>

A hand shot out and closed the tap. Prussia heard some profanities and a scolding familiar voice but his red eyes were still dully staring at the tap and the hand atop it.

"Oi! Bastard! Are you listening? Damnit! Are you sick or something? See, I knew you three bastards would get wasted like crazy! I bet the sleeping idiot with your brother is in the same state as you! And the tomato bastard is probably lying around outside from not having found anyone to drive him back! Serves you right, bastards!"

Romano paused in his rant as he noticed absolutely no reaction from the Prussian. It scared him slightly. The Prussia he knows would already be snapping back at him, claiming his awesomness and being the usual bastard he is. But his dull state of passiveness right now is just too freaky! Shaking the Prussian's shoulder softly, Romano toned down to a worried voice.

"H-Hey! Bastard! Are you alright? Is it that bad?"

Prussia blinked as he felt a hand shake him gently. He looked up and met the concerned amber eyes. Italy …? No. Those eyes were not oblivious and bright. Those eyes were soft in their shine and with an appeasing warmth rather than the blinding brightness of Feliciano. And those eyes had that constant twitching frown.

"Romano …?" Prussia croaked before he felt his legs give in and his body topple over the Italian.

Romano cursed as he caught the albino falling over him. The stench of alcohol still present from Gilbert's breath as he breathed over Romano's neck, his head resting on the brunet's shoulder and his arms falling limp by the side of his body as Romano wrapped his own arms around the taller broader figure to maintain both their balance.

"Oi! Bastard! Wake up! If you're going to fucking sleep, do it in your room!"

"West kicked us out … said he had to return to key …"

"Uh? He already gave back the keys? Well, whatever! It's your fault for getting wasted like that before the road trip! Damnit! You're heavy! Get off!"

"Hm … You're warm … and you smell nice." Prussia dully answered, half-conscious of his words.

Romano's face flashed every shade of red and a disgusted expression crossed his features. He dropped the albino and waked out of the toilets (Forgetting he originally needed to go). He slammed the door behind him but Gilbert was already snoring on the ground, oblivious to the turmoil he had stirred up in the oldest Italian.

"Fucking potato bastard! Who told you that you could flirt with me?! My brother isn't enough already?!" Romano cursed as he charged towards the table where his brother was socialising with the other potato bastard. Romano hated the way other nations looked at his brother with lustful eyes. It irritated him that people only saw them as cute little toys. So Romano made it a point to be rude and aggressive to any bastard that flirts with either him or his brother (mostly his brother). He first thought the blonde potato bastard to also be after Feliciano's ass but turns out Ludwig has no other feelings than friendship for his brother. Not even lust or other devious thoughts. So Romano accepted his presence, even if reluctantly. It was obvious anyway that the German had eyes on someone else …

Romano could only pity the potato bastard as he saw Ludwig shoot a longing gaze at the sleeping blonde at their table. France was just so oblivious to Germany's feelings, it was almost funny! But the albino potato head is another story entirely! That idiot is always making moves on Feliciano! When will he learn to back off?! And now, he has the guts to make a move on him? The bastard can go and die for all Romano cares!

"I hate German bastards!" Romano growled and went to get his coffee, lying to himself about the twinge of flattery he had felt at Gilbert's praise. It was only the slurred talk of a drunkard anyway!


	4. Chapter 4 - Obliviousness

**Chap IV – The Absolute Obliviousness**

The road trip went … horrifically, just as Germany predicted but worse.

It seemed that half of the invited guests decided not to show up at all. The ones that did show up were all 2 hours late and many of them suffering the remains of last night's party. Alfred, the host and organiser of this one week road trip arrived last with 3 hours late but at least his good mood and excited grin were fresh as daisies … and causing the other's mood to worsen at seeing him so cheerful and oblivious. Germany had to hold back his brother from assaulting America because he had yelled his greetings across the hotel, causing Prussia's (and other hangover nations) ears to ring in agony.  
>France was groaning and being irritable, a dark unusual aura surrounding him which meant only England could approach him without a risk of being murdered. However, England's expression was a bit colder than usual and lost in thought. He wasn't even paying attention to Francis or to America's loud instructions for the trip.<p>

Spain shot a cautious glance at the Frenchman. Not only did he break the rule but Francis is in his hangover bad mood. He definitely hopes England will keep his word of not telling anyone. Turning his attention to Romano, the Spaniard noticed how the Italian was oddly quiet and glaring even more viciously than normal at the German brothers, particularly Gilbert. Spain knew Romano hated Gilbert but still. He shrugged, not really in the mood to cheer up Romano or even socialise. His own thoughts were already hard enough to control, having been plagued by guilt and the really familiar face of a cute green eyed blonde nation.

The only nation present and looking remotely cheerful was Veneziano as he was the only one talking (yelling) with Alfred concerning the trip and whether or not they would have enough pasta. The day could not have started any worse and they still had not left the hotel yet!

* * *

><p>On the trip there were a limited number of nations: America (obviously), Canada (though America forgot to count him in as did pretty much most nations as well), England, France, Prussia, Germany, Veneziano, Romano, Spain, Portugal, Austria, Hungary, Russia, Belarus, China, Japan, Korea. Everyone else invited decided otherwise due to last night.<p>

"Alright guys! Time to go! Are you all ready?!" America called loudly when he didn't need to as they were all seated in a rented bus and easily in earshot without having Alfred blowing their ears off.

"Will you just start the damn thing and stop your fucking yelling?!" Prussia roared and was barely held back by Germany.

"Alrighty then! Driver, hit the road!"

"Alfred … it's me, not driver! You asked me to drive, remember?" Matthew sighed, hoping his brother could stop forgetting his presence.

"Oh right! Sorry Bro! Well, it's all up to you!" America laughed and walked back to his seat next to Japan and in front of England and France. He shot a questioning glance at the two silent blondes. Normally, England would be the one to scold him, not Prussia. And France had that aura around him that made him look like Russia. Spooky!

"Hey, England? Dude, what's the deal with France?"

"Just a hangover. He'll be fine by tomorrow." England answered in a dull tone, his eyes staring out the window.

Alfred frowned in concern. Arthur usually wouldn't be this dismissive with him. He didn't even look at him or complain once! France is not the only one acting weird today either. Prussia was looking just as bad and growling like an angry beast. Germany was unusually patient with his brother. Spain was not hugging Romano or even smiling like an idiot. Romano was glaring even more than normal at the Germans with his face flushed in rage. And Italy, seated next to Austria, the two of them paid absolutely no attention to what occurred in the bus. Hungary and Portugal were chatting, though Portugal often sent concerned looks to England, under the sly eyes of Hungary. China was attempting to escape Korea's boob-grabbing. And Russia was as still as an ice statue while his sister had her arms wrapped around his. Glancing back at Japan, America lifted a questioning eyebrow in a silent inquiry. The Japanese only shrugged in ignorance.

The trip went in relative peace … mainly because most people on board were ignoring each other or sleeping off their hangover.

"We're here! This is the best spot! Good job Driver!"

"Alfred … I'm not Driver, I'm your brother!"

"Alright guys! Let's all go enjoy the beach! I bet you guys have never been to Florida before!" America ignored his mumbling brother and was getting everyone out of the bus and onto the sandy beach.

It took them a whole day to drive down to Florida, mainly because they stopped on various occasions to visit specific towns or sceneries. As a road trip, it was going well so far … aside for the tensions remaining between the nations. Luckily, it seems as though most nations had gotten over their foul mood and hangover, leaving them in a better mood for when they arrived at the beach for an evening barbecue. America had planned for them to spend the night here and the whole day tomorrow enjoying the sea, they would hit the road again the next day.

* * *

><p>Arthur walked out of the bus and stretched himself. Spending the day on the road was dulling his senses but the fresh evening breeze hitting his face managed to wake him up and clear his mind. Feeling a hand land on his shoulder, Arthur glanced back expecting France but was agreeably surprised to meet the ocean eyes of Portugal. He smiled warmly at his friend.<p>

"You looked a bit out of it today. Is something bothering you?" João asked as they both helped Alfred unpack the food and tools for the barbecue. The American looked up, stretching his ears and listening in on the conversation. He too wanted to know what was wrong with England. Said England shook his head dismissively.

"Nothing really. Just tired from last night."

"If that were all, you'd be grumpy and sleeping all day like France. Come on, Arthur! You know I won't let go until you tell me!"

"Fine! Fine! Stubborn wanker!" Arthur chuckled and quietened his voice so that only Portugal would hear him.

"You know how last night we didn't go back together as planned?"

"Yeah, but you already apologised for that! I told you it didn't matter since Matthew took us back … Though, I was surprised not to see you in our shared room this morning. Where were you?"

"Yeah, about that ... the reason I didn't go with you guys and didn't come back to our room was … I didn't plan any of this but … your brother …" Arthur left the rest of his sentence unspoken and João could pretty much guess what had occurred. He glared his ocean blue eyes on Spain who was cooing over Romano, hissing in anger. Feeling Arthur pull on his sleeve, he looked back at his friend who shook his head with a sad smile.

"Don't bother. He was really drunk and I wasn't completely sober myself either."

"That's no excuse! And you know perfectly well that you were sober enough to drive! That bastard …! I'm going to kill him!"

"It's alright João."

"But if he knew about your feelings, he would …"

"What would that change? He hates me. He must never know." Arthur warned his friend in a low dark tone. João seemed hesitant but sighed in defeat.

"Alright. But you really need to get over this. I thought going out with me was supposed to help, not make it worse!"

"Yeah, well we aren't exactly going out and no, sex does not equal relationship!" Arthur chuckled as he prevented his friend from arguing. He shot a hesitant glance towards Spain but wasn't sure what he felt anymore. Sighing, he helped João pick up the large isotherm container and carry it towards the barbecue Francis, Feliciano and Ludwig were setting up.

"Then maybe we should go out officially. That way, my brother wouldn't dare mess with you like he did! I thought he would never stoop so low … what did he say this morning?"

"What do you think? It was a mistake and nothing happened. It didn't mean anything to him. He looked pretty angry too. I guess I shouldn't be surprised considering how much he hates me!" Arthur rolled his eyes, his voice light, but João noticed that his smile was forced.

"If he hates you, why did he sleep with you?"

"He was drunk. I was there. 1 + 1 = 2."

"That's no excuse! He's always acting like you're the devil reincarnated! Even drunk, I never thought he would actually … It's strange. Not at all like him."

"Don't bother, he was drunk and I happened to be there. Nothing more."

"I still can't forgive him. I'll make him regret it …"

"No, you will not! I promised I wouldn't tell anyone so can we just pretend this never happened?" Arthur pleaded, his emeralds hard and determined as he looked at his friend.

João hesitated. They both had stopped walking, standing in the sand holding the large ice box, and gazing in each other's eyes in a silent argument. Finally, the Portuguese nodded with a sigh.

"You win! I won't get involved. But then, you need to stay away from him, promise me!"

"Yeah, of course! I doubt Spain would even want me nearby anyway."

"You know … we should try that dating idea."

"I don't know, João … I feel bad about this. I told you before: It sounds like I'm using you to replace him …"

"It's okay! I don't mind! I just want to stop seeing you so down all the time!"

"… We can try …" Arthur tentatively agreed and nearly dropped the handle of the box when João leaned over and pecked his lips.

With a mischievous grin on his face, the Iberian began walking again, forcing Arthur to advance too as they both held the ice box. Arthur's red face was spluttering insults and scolding his friend who only laughed and teased his reaction. Neither noticed the dark olive eyes hovering over them.

* * *

><p>America scratched his head in confusion. One minute Arthur was acting weird, and now he's back to normal. And why did Portugal kiss him? Are they dating? The American shook his head, unclear about the whole situation. He heard Japan take pictures next to him and glanced down to the Asian.<p>

"Yo Japan, do you get what's going on?"

"Hai! Alfred-san, we are having a newly formed couple! So cute!"

"So they are going out? Uh … Well, I'm not surprised since they've been so close for so many centuries but … Isn't it weird?"

Japan turned a surprised expression to his American friend.

"Weird? How so?"

Alfred shrugged. He couldn't exactly tell why but … maybe it was the cornered glances Arthur was shooting in Antonio's way … or the stubborn glaring expression of the Spaniard as he avoided all eye contact with Arthur but glared openly at Portugal … or the angry hisses of Romano whenever Gilbert approached Veneziano … or the teasing arguments Gilbert always fell into with Romano … or maybe the dusty pink over Ludwig's face whenever Francis' hands brushed against his while they cooked the meat on the barbecue … or Francis soft look in his eyes and light chuckle as he helped out Ludwig … Or maybe America was just imagining things. People keep saying he's oblivious … if nobody noticed this, it might just be his imagination, right? Shaking his head, Alfred turned a bright smile to the Japanese.

"Never mind! I just thought maybe things aren't as obvious as they look!"

Japan remained stunned for a moment. He was certain Alfred had figured something out that he personally didn't notice. It surprised him that America would have such insight on things like that but if he did, Kiku decided it would be very useful for him and his investigation of couples between nations! Grinning excitedly, the Japanese followed after the taller American as they locked the bus and walked back with the last few things to meet up with the others.

"Alfred-san! I've got an idea …"


End file.
